Skip to main content

Full text of "Poems : translated from the French of Madame De la Mothe Guion"

See other formats


:***«• 






■3^ 



pi 



■mm 



cx**i 



■ **,ei ■' '■ 




PsiX 



9Bf v iSWP^I 



F-46.205 

GTO 




*■■*** 



FROM THE LIBRARY OF 



REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. 



BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 



THE LIBRARY OF 



PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 









i «\V wiy 



v\ 



n<* 



I ..'• .(,£ 



^Oem$, I §£p 24 1936 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRE^fe// Qmt » i 



MADAME DE LA MO THE GUIOA r , 

BY THE LATE 

WILLIAM COWPER, Escfc 

AUTHOR OF THE TASK, 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED 

SOME ORIGINAL POEMS 

OF MR. COWPER) 
XOT INSERTED IN HIS WORKS. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED AND SOLD BY KIMBER, CONRAD, 8c CO, 
NO. 170, SOUTH SECOND STREE I 



THE REV. WILLIAM BULL, 

THESE TRANSLATIONS 
OF A FEW OF THE 

SPIRITUAL SONGS 

OF THE EXCELLENT 

MADAME GUION, 

MADE At HIS EXPRESS DESIRE, 

ARE DEDICATED, 
BY HIS 
AFFECTIONATE FRIEND 
AND SERVANT, 

WILLIAM COWPER. 
July, 1782. 



PREFACE. 



cco«coo3eoooecooeooocoooooo5eofto 



IT seems needless, if not impertinent, in an 
obscure individual, to say any thing" in praise of the 
Author of the Task. It is of more consequence to in- 
form the reader of the circumstances that have led to 
this publication. About twenty years ago a very dear 
and venerable friend* introduced me to the truly great 
and amiable Mr. Cowper. This gave rise to a friend- 
skip which increased with every repeated interview, 
and for several years I had the pleasure of spending 1 
an afternoon with him every week. At length this de- 
lightful intercourse was terminated, by his removal to 
a distant situation, and the painful approaches of that 
event which dissolves every social connexion. 

* The Reverend John Newton, Rector of St. Mary, 

Wooinotti, London. 

A 2 



PREFACE. 



g myself with the poetical works of 
i Madame Guion, I was struck with the 
i auty of some of her poems, as well as edifi- 
the piety and devotion of which they are 
\:,ly expressive. I mentioned them to Mr. C ; and 
partly to amuse a solitary hour, partly to keep in exer- 
cise the g-enius of this incomparable man, I requested 
him to put a few of the poems into an English dress. 
ward, during- my absence upon a journey, I re- 
ceived a letter, in which Mr. C. says, " I have but lit- 
tle leisure, strange as it may seem. That little I de- 
' far a month after your departure to the ttf 
of Madame Guion. I haver pies of all 

the pieces I have produced on this last occasion, and 

hen we me 
to serve as \ 



PREFACE. 

me with these translations, to wl 
Letter to a Protestant Lady in Fra , 
Poem on Friendship. 

The idea of printing' them was afterwai i 
gestedto Mr. C. and he gave his full consent, intend 
ing* to revise them before I should send them to press. 
Various circumstances prevented him from doing" this ; 
and the poems would probably have still remained un- 
published, if it had not been found that several copies 
of them had already got abroad. The Editor there- 
fore had reason to believe, that they would otherwise 
have made their appearance in a state far less correct 
than if printed from the original Manuscript. Nor can 
he imagine that even in their present form, they will, 
en the whole, tend to diminish the well-deserved repu- 
tation of their excellent Author. 

To infer that the peculiarities of Madame Guion's 
theological sentiments, wer< \t C 



Vlii PREFACE. 

or by the Editor, would be almost as absurd as to sup- 
pose the illimitable Translator of Homer to have been 
a pagan. He reverenced her piety, admired her genius, 
and judged that several of her poems would be read 
with pleasure and edification by serious and candid 
persons. 

I have taken the liberty to add the Stanzas sub- 
joined to the Bills of Mortality, which had been pub- 
lished a few years past at Northampton ; and the 
Epitaph, which had appeared in a periodical publica- 
tion. They sufficiently mark the genius of their Au- 
thor, correspond with the other parts of this small vol- 
ume, and have not before been printed in a uniform 
manner with his poems, 

WILLIAM &ULL. 

PORT-PAGNEL, 

Mi June, 1301. 



11 



NATIVITY. 

— *^*<^» — 

POEME HEROIQUE, 

Vol. 4. § 4. 

— «€5*^» — 

'TIS Folly all— let me no more be told 
Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold ; 
Delightful views of Nature dress'd by Art, 
Enchant no longer this indiff 'rent heart ; 
The Lord of all tilings, in his humble birth, 
Makes mean the proud magnificence of earth ; 
The straw, the manger, and the mould'ring wall, 
Eclipse its lustre ; and I scorn it all. 

Canals, and fountains, and delicious vales, 
Green slopes, and plains whose plenty never fails ; 
Deep rooted groves, whose heads sublimely rise, 
Earth-born, and yet ambitious of the skies ; 
Th' abundant foliage of whose gloomy shades, 
Vainly the sun in all its pov.'r ini ades ; 
Where warbled airs of sprightly birds resound ; 
Whose verdure lives while winter scowls around 
Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep, 
And torrents raving down the nigged steep j 



12 THE NATIVITY. 

Smooth downs, whose fragrant herbs the spirits cheer, 
Meads, crow n\l with flow Vs ; streams musical and clear, 
Whose silver waters, and whose murmurs, join 
Their artless charms, to make the scene divine j 
The fruitful vineyard, and the furrow M plain, 
Tli at seems a rolling' sea of golden grain ; 
All, all have lost the charms they once possess'd ; 
An infant God reigns sovereign in my breast ; 
From Beth Tern's bosom I no more will rove ; 
There dwells the Saviour, and there rests my love. 

Ye mightier rivers, that with sounding force 
Urge down the valleys your impetuous course ! 
Winds, clouds, and lightnings! and ye waves, whose heads 
CurJ'd into monstrous forms, the seaman dreads ! 
Horrid abyss, where all experience fails, 
Spread with the wreck of planks and shattcr'd sails ; 
On whose broad back grim Death triumphant rides, 
Wlule havoc floats on all thy swelling tides, 
Thy shores a scene of ruin, strew \\ around 
With vessels bulg'd, and bodies of thedrown'd ! 

Ye Fish, that sport beneath the boundless waves, 
And rest, secure from man, in rocky caves ; 
Swift darting sharks, and whales of hideous si/e, 
Whom all tlT aquatic world with terror eyes ! 
Had I but Faith immoveable and true, 
I might def\ the fiercest storm, like \<,n - 
The world, a more disturbed and boistfrous sea. 

When Jesus shows a smile, affrights not me i 



TIIE NATIVITY. 13 

He hides mc, and in vain the billows roar, 
Break harmless at my feet, and leave the shore. 

Thou azure vault, where, through the gloom of night, 
Thick sown, we see such countless worlds of light 1 
Thou Moon, whose car, encompassing the skies, 
Restores lost nature to our wondring eyes ; 
Again retiring, when the brighter Sun 
Begins the course he seems in haste to run ! 
Behold him where he shines ! His rapid rays, 
Themselves unmeasur'd, measure all our days ; 
Nothing impedes the race he would piusue, 
Nothing escapes his penetrating vi< v., 
A thousand lands confess his quick'ning heat, 
And all he cheers, are fruitful, fair, and sweet. 

Far from enjoying what these scenes disclose, 
I feel the thorn, alas ! but miss the rose : 
Too well I know this aching heart requires 
More solid good to fill its vast desires ; 
In vain they represent His matchless might 
Who call'cl thetn out of deep primaeval night ; 
Their form and beauty but augment my woe : 
I seek the Giver of the charms they show ; 
Nor, Him beside, throughout the world he made, 
Lives there, in whom I trust for cure or aid. 

Infinite God, thou great unrivall'd One, 
Wl )se glory makes a blot of yonder sun ; 



14 THE NATIVITY. 

Compar'd with thine, how dim his beauty seems, 

How quench'd the radiance of his golden beams ! 

Thou art my bliss, the light by which I move ; 

In thee alone dwells all that I can love ; 

All darkness flies when thou art pleas'd t' appear, 

A sudden spring renews the fading* year ; 

Where e'er I turn, I sec thy power and grace 

The watchful guardians of our heedless race ; 

Thy various creatures in one strain agree, 

All, in all times and places, speak of thee ; 

Ev'n I, with trembling heart and stammering tongue, 

Attempt thy praise, and join the gen'ral song. 

Almighty Former of this wondrous plan, 
Faintly reflected in thine image, man.... 
Hoi}' and just — the Greatness of whose name 
Fills and supports this universal frame, 
DifFns'd throughout th' infinitude of space, 
Who art thyself thine own vast dwelling-place ; 
Soul of our soul, whom yet no sense of ours 
Discerns, eluding our most active pow'rs ; 
Encircling shades attend thine awful throne, 
That veil thy face, and keep thee still unknown; 
Unknown, though dwelling in our inmost part, 
Lord of the thoughts, and Sov'reign of the heart! 

R< | eat the charming truth that never tires, 
No God is like the God my soul desires j 
He at whose voice heav'n trembles, even He f 

Great a* he is, know* how to *toop to me.... 



THE NATIVITY. 15 

Lo \ there lie lies.... that smiling* Infant said, 

•< Heav'n, Earth, and Sea, exist '." and they obey'd. 

Ev'n He whose Being swells beyond the skies, 

Is born of woman, lives, and mourns, and dies ; 

Eternal and Immortal, seems to cast 

That glory from his brows, and breathes his last. 

Trivial and vain the works that man lias wrought, 

How do they shrink, and vanish at the thought ! 

Sweet Solitude, and scene of my repose ! 

This rustic sight assuages all my woes 

That crib contains the Lord whom I adore ; 
And Earth's a shade, that I pursue no more. 
He is my firm support, my rock, my tow'r, 
I dwell secure beneath his shclt'ring pow'r, 
And hold this mean retreat for ever dear, 
For all I love, my soul's delight is here. 
I see th' Almighty swath'd in infant bands, 
Tied helpless down, the Thunder-bearer's hands ! 
And in this shed, that mystery discern, 
Which faith and love, and they alone, can learn. 

Ye tempests, spare the slumbers of your Lord ! 
Ye zephyrs, all your whisperM sweets ai 
Confess the God that guides the rolling; 
Heav'n, do him homage ; and thou Earth, revere ! 
Ye Shepherds, Monarchs, Sages, hither bring 
Your hearts an off , ■ ■ . .' 

Pure b* its, and rich in Faith and Love ; 

Join, in hit ... , worlds above; 

n 



16 



THE NA TIVT'l V. 



To Bethl'cm haste, rejoice in his repose, 

And praise him there for all that he bestows ! 

Man, busy Man, alas ! can ill afford 
T' obey the summons, and attend the Lord; 
Perverted reason revels and runs wild, 
By glittering shows of pomp and wealth beguil'd ; 
And blind to genuine excellence and grace, 
Finds not her Author in so mean a place. 
Ye unbelieving ! learn a wiser part, 
Distrust your erring sense, and search your heart; 
There, soon \e shall perceive a kindling flame 
Glow for that Infant God from whom it came ; 
Resist not, quench not that divine desire, 
Melt all your adamant in heavVilv fire '. 

Not so will I requite thee, gentle Love ! 
Yielding" and soft this heart shall ever prove ; 
And ev'ry heart, beneath thy pow'r should fall, 
Glad to submit, could mine contain them all. 
But I am poor, oblation I have none, 
None for a Saviour, but Himself alone : 
Whate'er I render thee, ivr:>\ thee it came ; 
And if I give my body to the Hame, 
My patience, love, and en< rgj divine 

.1 and Soul and Spirit, ail arc thine. 
Ah vain attempt, t' < xpunge the mighty score \ 
'1 ; i •..' « I pa; ,1 . • still the more. 



THE NATIVITY. 17 

Upon my meanness, poverty, and guilt, 
The trophy of thy glory shall be built ; 
My self-disdain shall be th' unshaken base, 
And my deformity, its fairest grace ; 
For destitute of Good and rich in 111, 
Must be my slate and my description still. 

And do I grieve at such a humbling lot? 
Nay, but I cherish and enjoy the thought — > 
Vain pageantry and pomp of Earth, adieu ! 
I have no wish, no memory for you ; 
The more I feel my mis'ry, I adore 
The sacred Inmate of my soul the more ; 
Rich in his Love, I feel my noblest pride 
Spring" from the sense of having nought beside. 

In Thee I find wealth, comfort, virtue, might ; 
My wand'rings prove thy wisdom infinite ; 
All that I have, I give thee ; and then see 
All contrarieties unite in thee ; 
For thou hast join'd them, taking up our woe, 
And pouring out thy bliss on worms below, 
By filling with thy grace and love divine 
A gulph of evil in this heart of mine. 
This is indeed to bid the valleys rise, 
And the hills sink — 'tis matching earth and skies ! 
I feel my weakness, thank thee, and deplore 
An aching" heart that throbs to thank dice more ; 



18 COD NEITHER KNOW* 

The more I love thee, I the more reprove 
A soul so lifeless, and so slow to love ; 
Till, on a deluge of thy mercy toss'd, 
I plunge into that sea, and there am lost. 

i # { i ^ » ) fr l »i ~ 

GOD NEITHER KNOWN NOR LOVEB 
BY THE WORLD. 

xxxxx 
Vol. 2. Cantique 11. 

XXXXX 

YE Linnets, let us try, beneath this prove, 
Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise ! 
In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove, 
For all the world is blind, and wanders from his wavi. 

That God alone should prop the sinking soul. 
Fills them with rag bis empire now; 

I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole, 
To seek one simple heart, set ftee from all below. 

They speak of Love, yet little feel its sway, 
While in their 1> an idol lurks ; 

Their base desires * eU >bey, 

the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works. 

'Tis therefore 1 ear. dwell with man no more ; 

Your ellowahipi ; ! suits me best: 



NOR LOVED BY THE WORLD. 19 

Pure Love has lost its price, though priz'd of yore, 
Profan'd by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest. 

My God, who form'd you for his praise alone, 
Beholds his purpose well fulfill'd in you ; 
Come, let us join the Choir before his throne, 
Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true! 

Yes, I will always love ; and, as I ought, 
Tune to the praise of Love my ceaseless voice ; 
Preferring" Love too vast for human thought, 
In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice. 

Why have I not a thousand thousand lie arts, 
Lord of my soul ! that they might all be thine I 
If thou approve.... the zeal thy smile imparts, 
How should it ever fail ! Can such afire decline ? 

Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire ; 

Its object heav'nly, it must ever blaze : 

Eternal Love, a God must needs inspire, 

When once he wins the heart and fits it for his praise. 

Self-love dismissal.... 'tis then we live indeed.... 
In Her embrace, death, only death is found : 
Come then, one noble effort, and succeed, 

off the chain of Self with which thy soul is bound! 

Oh ! I would cry that all the world might hear, 
Ye self-tormentors, love your God alone ; 
Let his unequall'd Excellence be dear, 

to a our inmost souls, and make him all your own ! 

B 2 



20 THE SWALLOW. 

They hear me not — alas ! how fond to rove 

In endless chase of Folly's specious lure ! 

'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove, 

I taste the sweets of Truth — here on!;, am secure. 

THE SWALLOW. 

1 1 1 1 1 1 it' 

Vol. 2. Cantiqut 54. 



I AM fond of the Swallow — I learn from her flight, 
Hud I skill to improve it, a lesson of Love : 
How seldom on Earth do we see her alight ! 
She dwells in the sides, she is ever above. 

It is on the wing that she takes her repose. 
Suspended, and poisM in the regions of air, 
'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows, 
It is wingM like herself, 'tis ethereal fare. 

She comes in the Spring*, all the Summer she stays, 
And dreading the cold, still fo sun.... 

So, true to < ays, 

And the place where he shi shun. 

Ourli I ore, and our nourishment prayV s 

I 

•arc, 

. • • 



THE TRIUMPH, &C 21 

Til rarely, if ever, she settles below, 
And only when building- a nest for her young ; 
Were it not for her brood, she would never bestow 
A thought upon any tiling- filthy as dung*. 

Let us leave it ourselves ('tis a mortal abode) 
To bask ev'ry moment in infinite Love ; 
Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the road 
That leads to the day-spring appearing above. 



TRIUMPH OF HEAVENLY LOVE DESIRED. 

Vol. 2. Cant'ume 236. 
— <£>*c4g* — 

All ! reign, wherever Man is found, 
My Spouse, beloved and divine 1 

i I am rich, and I abound, 
V/hen ev'ry human heart is thine. 

A thousand sorrows piece my soul, 
To tl all are not thine owl 

I -M from pole to polo ; 
thy zeal ? arise : be known ! 



2C THE SOUL BROUGHT TO 

All hearts are cold, in ev'ry place, 

Yet earthly good w ith warmth pursue ; 

Dissolve them with a flash of grace, 
Thaw these of ice, and give us new f . 

A FIGURATIVE DESCRIPTION 

OF THE 

PROCEDURE OF DIVINE LOVE 

In bringing* a Soul to the point of self-renunciation 
and absolute acquiescence. 

<:••$'■ •■'$'•:> 

Vol. 2. Cantique 110. 
<:■>£:■»£■:> 

TWAS my purpose, on a day, 
To embark, and sail away j 
As I climb'd the vessel's side, 
Love was sporting" in the tide ; 
"Come," he said...." ascend... .make haste, 
Launch into the boundless waste. " 

Man}- mariners were there, 
Having <. ach 1. care ; 

They that row \\ OS, hi I 

Fixt upon the starry skies ; 



SELF-RENUNCIATION. 23 



Others steer'd, or turn'd tlic sails 
To receive the shifting gales. 

Love, with pow'r divine supply'd, 
Suddenly my courage trv'd ; 
In a moment it was night ; 
Ship, and skies, were out of sight ; 
On the briny wave I lay ; 
Floating rushes all my stay. 

Did I with resentment burn 

At this unexpected turn I 

Did I wish myself on shore, 

Never to forsake it more ? 

No...." my soul," I cried, " be itiU ; 

If I must be lost, I will." 

Next, he hasten' d to convey 
Both my frail supports away ; 
Seiz'd my rushes ; bade the waves 
Yawn into a thousand graves : 
Down I went, and sunk as lead, 
Ocean closing o'er my head. 

Still, however, life was safe 5 

And I saw him turn and laugh : 

" Friend," lie cried, « adieu ! lie low, 

While the wintry storms shall blow ; 

When the spring has calm'd the main, 

You shall rise and float again." 



24 THE SOUL BROUGHT TO 

Soon I saw him, with dismay, 
Spread his plumes, and soar away ; 
Now I mark his rapid flight ; 
Now he leaves my aching sight ; 

He is gone whom I adore, 
'Tis in vain to seek him more. 

How I trembl'd then, and fear'd 
When my Love had disappeared ! 
« Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried, 
" Whelm'd beneath the rolling" tide :" 
Vain attempt to reach his ear ! 
Love was gone, and would not hear. 

Ah ! return, and love me still ; 

See me subject to thy will ; 

Frown with wrath, or smile with grace, 

Only let me see thy face ! 

Evil I have none to fear, 

All is good if thou art near. 

Yet he leaves me.... cruel fate ! 
Leaves me in my lost estate... 
Have I sinnM ! O say wherein ; 
Tell me, and forgive my sin ! 
King, and Lord, whom I adore, 
Shall I see thy face no more [ 

Be not angry ; I resign, 

Henceforth, all my Will to thine ; 



SELF-RENUNCIATION". 25 

I consent that thou depart, 

Though thine absence breaks my lie art ; 

Go tii en, and for ever too ; 

All is right that thou wilt do. 

TI is was just what Love intended, 

He was now no I dc d ; 

Soon as I became a child, 

Love return'd to me, and smii'd : 

Never strife shall more be; 

'Twixt the Bridegroom and his Bride. 

<^**^»> 

A CHILD OF GOD 
LONGING TO SEE HIM BELOVED. 

Vol. 2. Cantique 144. 

THERE'S not an echo round me, 

But I am glad should learn 
How pure a fire has found 

The Love with which I burn. 
For none attends with pleasure 

To what I would reveal ; 
Thej ut of measure, 

And laugh at all I 



26 A CHILD OF GOD LONCI a* 

The rocks receive less proudly 

The story of my flame ; 
When I approach, they loudly 

Reverberate his name. 
I speak to them of sadness, 

And comforts at a stand ; 
They bid me look for gladb 

And better clays at hand. 

Far from all habitation, 

I heard a happy sound ; 
Big with the conso-.alion 

That I have often found ; 
I said, " my lot is sorrow, 

My grief has no alloy ;" 
The rocks replied..." to-morrow, 

To-morrow brings thee joy.'' 

These sweet and secret tidings, 

What bliss it is to hear ! 
For, spite of all my eluding's, 

My weakness and my fear, 
No sooner I receive them, 

Than I forget my p. , 
And happy to believe them, 

I love as much :. 

I fly to scenes romantic, 

ere never men resort ; 

•.lie, 
- 



TO SEE HIM BELOVED. 



Tor riot and confusion, 

They barter things above ;. 

Condemning-, as delusion, 
The joy of perfect Love. 

In this sequester'd corner 

None hears what I express *, 
Deliver'd from the scorncr, 

What peace do I possess ! 
Beneath the boughs reclining, 

Or roving o'er the Wild, 
I live, as undesigning, 

And harmless as a child. 

No troubles here surprise me, 

I hmocently play, 
While providence supplies me, 

And guards me all the day ; 
My dear and kind defender 

Preserves me safely here, 
From men of pomp and splendour, 
W T ho fill a child with fear. 



28 



ASPIRATIONS OF THE SOUL AFTER GOD- 



Vol. 2. Cantiquc 95. 



MY Spouse ! in whose presence I live, 

Sole object of all my desires, 
Who know'st what a flame I conceive, 

And canst easily double its fires ; 
How pleasant is all that I meet ! 

From fear of adversity free, 
I find even sorrow made sweet ; 

Because 'tis assign' d me by Thee. 

Transported I see thee display 

Thy riches and glory divine -, 
I have only my life to repay, 

Take what I would gladly resign. 
Thy will is the treasure I seek, 

For thou art as faithful as strong" ; 
There let me, obedient and meek, 

Repose myself all the day long. 

My spirit and faculties fail ; 

Oli finish w hut Love has begun ! 
Destroy what is sinful and frail, 

And dwell in the soul thou hast won ! 
Dear theme of'im wonder andpra 

I cry, \\ ho is worthy as Thou ! 



GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO COB. 29 

I can only be silent and gaze ; 
'Tis all that is left to me now. 

Oh glory, in which I am lost, 

Too deep for the plummet of thought ! 
On an ocean of deity toss'd, 

I am swallow'd, I sink into nought. 
Yet lost and absorb'd as I seem, 

I chant to the praise of my King ; 
And though overwhelm'*! by the theme, 

Am happy whenever I sing. 

«€5*->-< 

GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO GOD. 

************ 
Vol 2. Cantiquc 95. 

ALL are indebted much to thee, 

But I far more than all, 
From many a deadly snare set free, 

Andrais'd from many a fall. 
Overwhelm me, from above, 
Daily, with thy boundless Love. 

Whatbonds of Gratitude I feel, 
No language can declare \ 



30 GRATITUDE AKB LOVE TO GOIV 

Beneath th' oppressive weight I reel, 

'Tis more than I can bear : 
When shall I that blessing- prove. 
To return thee Love for Love ? 

Spirit of Charity, dispense 

Thy grace to ev'ry heart ; 
Expel all other Spirits thence, 

Drive self from every part : 
Charity divine, draw nigh, 
Break the chains in which we lie ! 

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign, 

Have still a slavish lot ; 
They boast of Liberty in vain, 

Of Love, and feel it not. 
He whose bosom glows with Thee, 
He, and he alone, is free. 

Oh blessedness, all bliss above, 

When thy pure fires prevail ! 
Love only teaches what is Love ; 

All other lessons fail : 
We learn its name, but not its pow'rs. 
Experience only makes it ours. 



HAPPY SOLITUDE. ...UNHAPPY MEN. 



Vol. 2. Cantique 89. 



MY heart is easy, and my burden light ; 

I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight : 

The more my woes in secret I deplore, 

I taste thy goodness, and I love, the more. 

There, while a solemn stillness reigns around, 
Faith, Love, and Hope, within my soul abound ; 
And while the world suppose me lost in care, 
The joys of angels, unperceiv'd, I share. 

Thy creatures wrong thee, Othou sov'reign Good! 
Thou art ool lovM, because not understood ; 
This grieves me mosl . .ursuits beguile 

Ungrateful men, I 

I beauty, and false honor, are adoiV ; 
: Thee they scorn, and hthywordj 

mcern'd, a Saviou 

And hunt tiK-ir ruin, wi 



C 2 



32 



LIVING WATER. 



Vol. 4. Cant i que 81. 



THE fountain in its source, 
No drought of summer fears *, 

The farther it pursues its course, 
The nobler it appears. 

But shallow cisterns yield 

A scanty, short supply ; 
The morning 1 sees them amply nll'd, 

The ev'ning finds them dry. 



TRUTH AND DIVINE LOVE 

REJECTED BY THE WORLD 

*********** 

Vol. % Cmaique '22 

O LOVE, of pure and lica\'nly birth ! 
() simple Truth, scarce known on earth! 
Whom born will i 

And more perre* e an I daring still, 



TRUTH AND DIVINE LOVE, &C, 

Smother and quench, with rcas'nings vain, 
While error and deception reigii. 

Whence comes it, that, your pow'r the same 
As His on high, from whom you came, 
Ye rarely find a listening car, 
Or heart that makes you welcome here ?.... 
Because ye bring- reproach and pain, 
Where'er ye visit, in your train. 

The world is proud, and cannot bear 
The scorn and calumny ye share ; 
The praise of men, the mark they mean, 
They fly the place where ye are seen ; 
Pure Love, with scandal in the rear, 
Suits not the vain ; it costs too dear. 

Then, let the price be what it may, 
Though poor, I am prepar'd to pay : 
Come shame, come Borrow ; spite of tears, 
Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears ; 
One soul, at last, shall not repine, 
To g\\Q you room, come, reign in mine ' 



34 
DIVINE JUSTICE AMIABLE. 



Vol. 2. Cantifut 119. 



THOU hast no lightnings, Otliou Just! 

Or I their force should know j 
And if thou strike me into dust, 

My soul approves the blow. 

The heart, that values less its ease , 

Than it adores thy ways ; 
In thine avenging anger, sees 

A subject of its praise. 

Pleas'd, I could lie conceal'd, and lost 

In shades of central night ; 
Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'&t, 

But lest I grieve thy sight. 

Smite me, O thou whom I provok 

And 1 will love | 
The \ i 
Shall | ' 

A ii» I not worthj - 

!' 

\nd dare 1 1 



•IVIXE JUSTICE AMIABLE. 

Far from afflicting, thou art kind ; 

And in my saddest hours, 
An unction of thy grace I find, 

Pervading all my pow'rs. 

Alas ! thou sparest me yet again ; 

And when thy wrath should move, 
Too gentle to endure my pain, 

Thou sooth'st me with thy Love. 

I have no punishment to fear ; 

But ah ! that smile from thee, 
Imparts a pang-, far more severe 

Than woe itself would be. 



THE SOUL THAT LOVES GOD 

FINDS HIM EVERY WHERE. 

Vol. 2. Cantique 108. 

OH thou, by long- experience tried, 
Near whom no grief can long abide ; 
My Love ! how full of sweet content 
I pass my years of banishment ! 



i) THI 50LL THAI L0VE3 COD, SvC 

All scenes alike engaging prove, 
To souls irapress'd with sacred love ; 
Where'er they dwell, they dwell in thee ; 
In heav'n, in eartli, or on the sea. 

To me remains nor place nor time ; 
My country is in ev'ry clime ; 
1 can be calm and free from care 
On any shore, since God is there. 

While place we seek, or place w~e shun, 
The soul finds happiness in none ; 
But with a God to guide our way, 
'Tis equal joy to go or stay. 

Could I be cast w here thou art not, 
That were indeed a dreadful lot ; 
But regions none remote I call, 
Secure of finding God in all. 

My country, Lord, art thou alone ; 
Nor other can I claim or own ; 
The point where all my wishes meet ; 
My Law, my Love \ life's only sweet ! 

I holdbj nothing here below ; 
Appoint mj journey, and I go; 

j1 by pride, 

1 feel thee good — feel nought beside. 



1 HE TESTIMONY OF DIVINE ADCP I 

No frowns of men can hurtful prove 
To souls on fire with heav'nly love ; 
Though men and devils both condemn, 
Nop! arise for them. 

Ah then ! to liis embrace repa 
My soul, thon art no stranger tli* • 
There Love divine shall be thy guards 

\nd peace and safety thy reward. 

«^>*<^> 

THE TESTIMONY OF 

DIVINE ADOPTION. 



Vol. 2. Cantique 78. 



>IOW happy are the new-born race, 
Partakers of adopting" grace ! 

How pure the bliss they share ! 
Hid from the world and all its eyes, 
Within their heart the blessing lies. 

And Conscience feels it there. 

The moment we believe, 'tis ours ; 

And if we love with all OUT pow'rs 

The God from whom it came, 



35 THE TESTIMONY OF DIVINE ADOPTION 

And if we serve with hearts sincere, 
'Tis still discernible and clear, 
An undisputed claim. 

But ah ! if foul and wilful sin 
Stain and dishonor us within, 

Farewell the joy we knew ; 
Again the slaves of Nature's sv. \r , 
In labyrinths of our own we stray, 

Without a guide or clue. 

The chaste and pure, who fear to grieve 
The gracious Spirit they receive, 

His work distinctly trace ; 
And strong in undissembling love, 
Boldly assert, and clearly prove, 

Their hearts his dwelling 1 place. 

Oh messenger of dear delight, 

Whose voice dispels the deepest night, 

Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove ! 
With thee at hand to sooth our pain?, 
No wish unsatisfied remains, 

No task, but that of Love. 

'Tis Love unites what Sin divides; 
The c 

To which the soul once brouj 
Re clinin 
1 rom bis abounding a 

K ace pass thought. 



DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL. 

Sorrow foregoes its nature there, 
And life assumes a tranquil air, 

Divested of its woes ; 
There, sov'reign goodness sooths the breast, 
Till then, incapable of rest, 

In sacred sure repose. 

DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL* 

********* 
Vol. 2. Cantique 155. 

********* 

LOVE is the Lord whom I obey, 
Whose will transported I perform, 
The centre of my rest, my stay, 
Love all in all to me, myself a worm. 

For uncreated charms I burn, 
Oppress'd by slavish fear no more ; 
For one, in whom I may discern, 
Ev'n when he frowns, a sweetness I adore. 

He little loves Him, who complains, 
And finds Him rigorous and severe ; 
His heart is sordid, and he feigns, 
Though loud in boasting of a sold sincer«, 
D 



40 DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL. 

Love causes grief, but 'tis to move 
And stimulate the slumb'ring mind ; 
And he has never tasted Love, 
Who shuns a pang so graciously design'd. 

Sweet is the cross, above all sweets, 
To souls enamour'd with thy smiles ; 
The keenest woe life ever meets, 
Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles. 

5 Tis just, that God should not be dear, 
Where self engrosses all the thought, 
And groans and murmurs make it clear, 
Whatever else is lov'd, the Lord is net. 

The love of Thee flows just as much 
As that of ebbing Self subsides ; 
Our hearts, their scantiness is such, 
Bear not the conflict of two rival tides. 

Both cannot govern in one soul ; 
Then let self-love be dispossess'd ; 
The Love of God deserves the whole, 
And will not dwell with sj despii>'d a guest. 



41 
SELF-DIFFIDENCE. 

— •*:•*:*•> 

Vol. 2. Cantique 125. 
<:*:*:> 

SOURCE of love, and light of day, 
Tear me from myself away ; 
Ev'ry view and thought of mine, 
Cast into the mould of thine ; 
Teach, Oh teach this faithless heart 
A consistent, constant part ; 
Or, if it must live to grow 
More rebellious, break it now ! 

Is it thus, that I requite 
Grace and goodness infinite ? 
Ev'ry trace of ev'ry boon, 
Cancell'd, and eras'd, so soon ! 
Can I grieve thee, whom I love ; 
Thee, in whom I live and move ? 
If my sorrow touch thee still, 
Save me from so great an ill ! 

Oh ! ti\' ^oppressive, irksome weight* 
Felt in an uncertain state ; 
Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu, 
Should I prove at last untrue ! 
Still I chuse thee, follow still 
Ev'ry notice of thy will ; 



42 THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE- 

But unstable, strangely weak, 
Still let sjip the good I seek. 

Self-confiding- wretch, I thought, 
I could serve thee as I ought, 
AVin thee, and deserve to feel 
All the love thou canst reveal ! 
Trusting self, a bruised reed, 
Is to be deceiv'd indeed : 
Save me from this harm and loss, 
Lest my gold turn all to dross ! 

Self is earthly.... Faith alone 
Makes an unseen world our own ; 
Faith reiinquish'd, how we roam, 
Feel our way, and leave our home ! 
Spurious Gems our hopes entice*, 
While we scorn the pearl of price ; 
And preferring servant's pay, 
Cast the children's bread away ! 

«€£**<&» 

THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE. 

<:-^:^ ; > 

Vol. 2. Cantic/uc 135. 
<:^:*£> 

LOVE, if thy destin'd sacrifice am I ; 
Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy iircs ; 



REPOSE IN GOD. 4 

PlungM in thy depths of mercy, let me die 
The death, which ev'ry soul that lives, desires! 

I watch my hours, and see them fleet away ; 
The time is long", that I have languish'd here ; 
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey, 
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere. 

To me 'tis equal, whether Love ordain 
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease : 
My soul perceives no real 111 in pain ; 
In ease, or health, no real Good she sees. 

One Good she covets, and that Good alone ; 
To chuse thy will, from selfish bias free ; 
And to prefer a cottage to a throne, 
And grief to comfort, if it pleases Thee, 

That we should bear the cross, is thy command. 
Die to the world, and live to self no more ; 
Suffer unmoved beneath the rudest hand, 
As pleas 'd when shipwreck'd as when safe on shore, 

«€*&»> 

REPOSE IN GOD, 

<:4m£.>'— 

Vol. 2. Ccmtique 17. 
<:-ȣ^> 

BLEST ! who far from all mankind^ 
Tliis world's shadows left behind, 



4-i GLORY TO GOD ALONE. 

Hears from heay.'n a gentle strain 
WbispYmg Love, and loves again , 

Blest ! who free from self-esteem, 
Dives into the Great Supreme, 
All desire beside discards, 
Joys inferior none regards. 

Blest ! who in thy bosom seeks 
Best that nothing earthly breaks. 
Dead to self and worldly things, 
Lost in thee, thou King of Kings ! 

Ye that know my secret fire, 
.Softly speak, and soon retire - 7 
favour my divine repose, 
Spare the sleep a God bestows. 

— — «{sM^> 

GLORY TO GOD ALONE. 

<:*£-*^:> 

Vol. 2. Car.tique 15. 
<:, fc * :> 

OH lov'd ! but not enough....though dearer far 
Than self and its most Joy.' id enjoyments are ; 

! tie duly loves thee, but who, nobly free 
Frcm sensual < I 



GLORY TO COD ALONE. 



45 



Glory of God ! thou stranger here below*, 
Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to know; 
Our Faith and Reason are both shock'd to find 
Man in the post of honour.... Thee behind. 

Reason exclaims...." Let ev'ry creature fall, 
* Asham'd, abas'd, before the Lord of all ;" 
And Faith, o'erwhelm'd with such a dazzling* blaze, 
Feebly describes the beauty she surveys. 

Yet man, dim-sighted man, and rash as blind, 
Deaf to the dictates of his better mind, 
In frantic competition dares the skies, 
And claims precedence of the Only Wise. 

Oh lost in vanity till once self-known ! 
Nothing" is great, or g-ood, but God alone, 
When thou shalt stand before his awful face, 
Then, at the last, thy pride shall know His place. 

Glorious, Almighty, First, and without end ! 
When wilt thou melt the mountains, and descend ? 
When wilt thou shoot abroad thy conqu'ring" rays, 
And teach these atoms, thou hast made, thy praise I 

Thy Glory is the sweetest heav'n I feel ; 
And if I seek it with too fierce a zeal, 
Thy Love, triumphant o'er a selfish will, 
Taught me the passion, and inspires it still. 



46 SELF-LOVE ANTJ TRUTH INCOMPATIBLE. 

My Reason, all my faculties, unite, 
To make thy Glory their supreme delight ; 
Forbid it, Fountain of my brightest days, 
That I should rob thee, and usurp thy praise ! 

Mo soul ! rest happy in thy low estate, 
Nor hope, nor wish, to be esteem'd or great ; 
To take th' impression of a will divine, 
Be that thy glory, and those riches thine. 

Confess Him righteous in his just decrees, 
Love what he loves, and let his pleasure please ; 
Die daily ; from the touch of Sin recede ; 
Then thou hast crown'd lrim, and he reigns indeed. 

— — •<«Cg>*^»>""— — 
SELF-LOVE AND TRUTH INCOMPATIBLE. 

Vol. 2. Cantique 21. 

xx x xx 

FROM thorny wilds, a Monster came, 
That fill'd my soul with fear and shame ; 
The birds, forgetful of their mirth, 
Droop'd at the sight, and fell to earth ; 
When thus a sage address'd mine car, 
Himself unconscious of a fear. 

" Whence all this terror and surprise, 
" Distracted looks, and streaming eyes ? 



SELF-LOVE AXD TRUTH INCOMPATIBLE. 4f 

« Far from the world and its affairs, 

« The joy it boasts, the pain it shares, 

M Surrender, without guile or art, 

M To God, an undivided heart ; 

M The savage form, so fear'd before, 

M Shall scare your trembling- soul no more ; 

" For loathsome as the sight may be, 

" 'Tis but the Love of self you see. 

" Fix all your Love on God alone, 

" Chuse but His will, and hate your own ; 

" No fear shall in your path be found, 

*' The dreary waste shall bloom around, 

" And you, through all your happy days, 

" Shall bless his name, and sing his praise." 

Oh lovely Solitude, how sweet, 
The silence of this calm retreat ! 
Here Truth, the fair whom I pursue, 
Gives all her beauty to my view ; 
The simple, unadorn'd display, 
Charms ev'ry pain and fear away. 
O Truth ! whom millions proudly slight, 
O Truth ! my treasure and delight, 
Accept this tribute to thy name, 
And this poor heart, from which it came • 



48 
THE LOVE OF GOD, 

THE END OF LIFE. 



Vol. 2. Cantique 165. 

SINCE life in sorrow must be spent* 
So be it — I am well content, 
And meekly wait my last remove* 
Seeking only growth in Love. 

No bliss I seek, but to fulfil 
In life, in death, thy holy will ; 
No succours in my woes I want, 
Save what thou art pleas'd to grant. 

Our days are number'd, let us spare 
Our anxious hearts a needless care : 
'Tis thine, to number out our days ; , 
Ours, to give them to thy praise. 

Love is our only business here, 
Love, simple, constant, and sincere ; 
O blessed davs, thy servants sec ! 
Spent, O Lord, in pleasing Thee. 



49 



LOVE FAITHFUL IN THE ABSENCE 
OF THE BELOVED. 



Vol. 4. Cantiqiie 49. 



IN vain ye woo me to your harmless joys, 
Ye pleasant bow'rs, remote from strife and noise ; 
Your shades, the witnesses of many a vow, 
Breath'd forth in happier days, are irksome now ; 
Denied that smile 'twas once my heav'n to see, 
Such scenes, such pleasures are all past with me. 

In vain he leaves me, I shall love him still ; 
And though I mourn, not murmur at his will > 
I have no cause — an object all divine 
Might well grow weary of a soul like mine ; 
Yet pity me, great God ! forlorn, alone, 
Heartless and hopeless, Life and Love all gone.; 

<«^*>:*:*:«g*» 

LOVE PURE AND FERVENT. 

<:*:*:> 

Vol. 4. Cantique 31* 
<:*:*:> 

JEALOUS, and with Love o'crflowing, 
Ggd demands a fervent heart - t 



50 THE ENTIRE SURERNDER. 

Grace and bounty, still bestowing-, 
Calls us to a grateful part. 

Oh, then, with supreme affection, 

His paternal Will regard ! 
If it cost us some dejection, 

Ev'ry sigh has its reward. 

Perfect Love has pow'r to soften 
Cares that might our peace destroy, 

Nay, does more... transforms them often, 
Changing 1 sorrow into joy. 

Sovereign Love appoints the measure, 
And the number of our pains ; 

And is pleas'd when we find pleasure 
In the trials he ordains. 

«^*0*^<&» 

THE ENTIRE SURRENDER. 

«:4"ff : > 

Vol. 4. Ca?itique 77. 

<:■>$"£:► 

PEACE has unvel'd her smiling face, 
And woos thy soul to her embrace ; 

Enjoy'd with ease, if thou refrain 

From earthly Love, else sought in vain ; 



THE PERFECT SACRIFICE. 

She dwells with all who Truth prefer, 
But seeks not them who seek not Her. 

Yield to the Lord, with simple heart, 
All that thou hast, and all thou art ; 
Renounce all strength but strength divine ; 
And peace shall be for ever thine :.... 
Behold the path which I have trod, 
My path, 'till I go home to God. 

«^>*<&» — r- 

THE PERFECT SACRIFICE. 

— <«CJ*&> — 
Vol. 4. Cantique 74. 

— -«€5*^» — 

I place an ofPring at thy shrine, 

From taint and blemish clear, 
Simple and pure in its design, 

Of all that I hold dear. 

I yield thee back thy gifts again, 

Thy gifts which most I prize ; 
Desirous only to retain 

The notice of thine eyes. 

But if, by thine ador'd decree, 
That blessing be denied, 
E 



51 



62 GOD HIDES HIS PEOPL*. 

Resign'd, and unreluctant, see, 
My ev'ry wish subside. 

Thy will in all things I approve j 

Exulted or cast down, 
Thy will in ev'ry state, I love, 

And even in thy frown. 

«€S*S>» 

GOD HIDES HIS PEOPLE. 

Vol. 4. Cantique 42. 

**#♦******* 

TO lay the soul that loves him low, 

Becomes the Only-wise ; 
To hide beneath a veil of woe 

The children of the skies. 

Man, though a worm, would yet be great ; 

Though feeble, would seem strong ; 
Assumes an independent state, 

J3y sacrilege and wrong. 

Strange the reverse, which once a.ba*\l, 
The haughtj creature proves ! 

He feels his soul :i barren waste, 
Nor dares ailinn, lie Lortfi, 



GOD HIDES HIS TEOPLE. 

Scorn'd by the thoughtless and the vain, 

To God he presses near j 
Superior to the world's disdain, 

And happy in it's sneer. 

Oh welcome, in his heart he says, 

Humility and shame ! 
Farewell the wish for human praise, 

The music of a name ! 

But will not scandal mar the good 
That I might else perform ? 

And can God work it, if he would, 
By so despis'd a worm ? 

Ah ! vainly anxious '.....leave the Lord 

To ride thee, and dispose ; 
Sweet is the mandate of his 'word, 

And gTacious all he does. 

He draws from human littlenes* 

His grandeur and renown, 
And gen'rous hearts with joy confess 

The triumph all his own. 

Down then with self-exalting* thought?, 

Thy faith and hope employ 
To welcome all that he allots, 

And suffer shame with joy. 



54 THE SECRETS OF DIVINE LOVE 

No longer, then, thou wilt encroach 

On his eternal right ; 
And he shall smile at thy approach, 

And make thee his delight. 



<< ^ »« g » 



THE SECRETS OF DIVINE LOVE 

ARE TO BE KEPT. 

Vol. 3. Cantique 48. 

SUN ! stay thy course, this moment stay.... 
Suspend th' o'erflowing tide of day, 
Divulge not such a Love as mine, 
Ah ! hide the mystery divine, 
Lest man, who deems my glory shame, 
Should learn the secret of my flame. 

Oh night ! propitious to my views, 
Thy sable awning wide diffuse ; 
Conceal alike my joy and pain, 
Nor draw thy curtain back again, 
Though morning, by the tears she shows, 
Seems to participate my woes. 

Ye stars ! whose faint, and feeble fires 
Express my languishing- desires, 



ARE TO BE KEPT. 55 

Whose slender beams pervade the skies 

As silent as my secret sighs, 

Those emanations of a soul 

That darts her fires beyond the Pole ; 

Your rays, that scarce assist the sight, 
That pierce, but not displace the night. 
That shine indeed, but nothing show 
Of all those various scenes below, 
Bring no disturbance, rather prove 
Incentives of a sacred Love. 

Thou Moon ! whose never-failing course 

Bespeaks a providential force, 

Go, tell the tidings of my name 

To Him who calls the stars by name ; 

Whose absence kills, whose presence cheers ; 

Who blots, or brightens, all my years. 

While, in the blue abyss of space, 
Thine orb performs its rapid race ; 
Still whisper in his list'ning ears 
The language of my sighs and tears ; 
Tell him, I seek him, far below, 
Lost in a wilderness of woe. 

Ye thought-composing, silent hours, 
Diffusing peace o'er all my pow'rs ; 

Friends of the pensive ! who conceal 

In darkest shades, the F.s.vriC. 1 feel ; 
E 2 



56 THE SECRETS OF DIVINE LOVE 

To you I trust, and safely may, 

The Love that wastes my strength away. 

In sylvan scenes, and caverns rude, 
Itastethe sweets of solitude ; 
Retir'd indeed, but not alone, 
I share them with a Spouse unknown, 
Who hides me here, from envious eyes, 
From all intrusion and surprise. 

Imbow'ring shades, and dens profound ! 
Where echo rolls the voice around : 
Mountains ! whose elevated heads, 
A moist, and misty veil o'erspreads ; 
Disclose a solitary Bride 
To Him I love... to none beside. 

Ye rills ! thatmurm'ring all the way, 
Among the polish'd pebbles stray ; 
Creep silently along" the ground, 
Lest drawn by that harmonious sound, 
Some wand'rer, whom I would not meet, 
Should stumble on my lov'd retreat . 

Enamell'd meads, and hillocks green, 
And streams, thai water all the scene ! 
Ye torrents, londin distant ears ! 
Ye fountains, that receive my tears ! 

Ah ! BtLU conceal, with caution due, 

A charge, I trust with none but you. 



ARE TO BE KEPT. 

If when my pain and gTief increase, 
I seem t' enjoy the sweetest peace, 
It is because I find so fair 
The charming 1 object of my care, 
That I can sport, and pleasure, make 
Of torment, suffer'd for his sake. 

Ye meads and groves, unconscious things! 

Ye know not whence my pleasure springs, 

Ye know not, and ye cannot know, 

The source from which my sorrows flow ; 

The dear sole Cause of all I feel,... 

He knows, and understands them well. 

Ye deserts ! where the wild beasts rove, 
Scenes sacred to my hours of love ; 
Ye forests ! in whose shades I stray, 
Benighted under burning" day ; 
Ah ! whisper not how blest am I, 
Nor while I live, nor when I die . 

Ye lambs ! that sport beneath these shades, 

And bound along" the mossy glades : 

Be taught a salutary fear, 

And cease to bleat when I am near : 

The wolf may hear your harmless cry, 

Whom ye should dread, as much as I. 

How calm, amid these scenes, my mind ! 
How perfect is the peace. I find ! 



67 



58 THE SECRETS OF "DIVINE LOV* 

Oh hush, be still my cr'ry part, 
My tongue, my pulse, my locating* heart ! 
Tliat Love, aspiring* to its cause, 
May suffer not a moment's pause. 

Ye swift-finn'd nations, that abide 
In seas, as fathomless as wide ; 
And unsuspicious of a snare, 
Pursue at larg"e your pleasures there : 
Poor sportive fools ! how soon docs man 
Your heedless ignorance trepan ! 

Away ! dive deep into the brine, 
Where never yet sunk plummet line ; 
Trust me, the vast Leviathan 
Is merciful, compared with man ; 
Avoid his arts, forsake the beach, 
And never play within his r. 

My soul her bondage ill endures ; . 

I pant for liberty like yours ; 

I long for that immense Profound, 

That knows no bottom, and no bound ; 

Lost in Infinity, to prove 

Th' Incomprehensible of Love. 

Ye birds ! that lessen as ye fly, 
And vanish in the distant sky ; 
. To v. I 
Resounding with your cheerful M 



ARE TO BE KEPT. 

Haste to escape from human sight ; 
Fear less, the vulture, and the kite. 

How blest, and how secure am I, 
When quitting* earth, I soar on high ; 
When lost, like you I disappear, 
And float in a sublimer sphere ! 
Whence falling, within human view, 
I am ensnar'd, and caught like you. 

Omniscient God ! whose notice deigns 
To try the heart, and search the reins ; 
Compassionate the num'rous woes, 
I dare not, ev'n to thee, disclose ; 
Oh save me from the cruel hands 
Of men, who fear not thy commands ! 

Love, all-subduing and divine, 
Care for a creature truly thine ; 
Reign in a heart, dispos'd to own 
No sov'reign, but thyself alone ; 
Cherish a Bride, who cannot rove, 
Nor quit thee for a meaner Love ! 



59 



60 

THE VICISSITUDES 

EXPERIENCED IN A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 

<:*&*&'.> 

Vol. 3. Cantique 69. 
<:**:> 

I suffer fruitless anguish day by day, 
Each moment, as it passes, marks mvnain ; 
Scarce knowing wnitHer, doubtfully I stray, 
And see no end to all that I sustain. 

The more I strive, the more I am withstood ; 
Anxiety encreasing ev'ry hour, 
My spirit finds no rest, performs no good, 
And nought remains of all my former pow'r. 

My peace of heart is fled, I know not where ; 
My happy hours, like shadows, passM away; 
Their sweet remembrance doubles all my care, 
Night darker seems, succeeding such a day. 

Dear faded joys, and impotent regret, 
What profit is there in incessant tears ? 
Oil Thou, whom, once beheld, we ncVr forget, 
Reveal thy Love, and banish all my fears ! 

Alas ! he Hies me... treats me as his foe, 

Views not my sorrows, hears not when I plead;... 



THE I'ICISSITUDES, &.C. 61 

Woe such as mine, despis'd, neglected woe, 
Unless it shorten life, is vain indeed. 

Pierc'd with a thousand wounds, I yet survive ; 
My pangs are keen, but no complaint transpires ; 
And while in terrors of thy wrath I live, 
Hell seems to lose its less tremendous fires. 

Has Hell a pain I would net g-ladly bear, ■ 
So thy severe displeasure might subside ? 
Hopeless of ease, I seem already there, 
My life extiiiguish'd, and yet death denied. 

Is this the joy so promis'd...this the love, 
Tli' unchanging love, so sworn in better days ! 
Ah dang'rous glories ! shown me, but to provu. 
How lovely thou, and I how rash to gaze. 

Why did I see them ? had I still remain'd, 
Untaught, still ignorant how fair thou art, 
My humbler wishes I had soon obtain'd, 
Nor known the torments of a doubting heart. 

DeprivM of all, yet feeling no desires, 
Whence then I cry, the pangs thai I sustain ? 
Dubious and uninfbrm'd, my soul inqii' 
Ought she te cheris h, or shake of! her pain, 

SuiT'ring I rafter not... sincerely love, 
Yet feel no touch cf thateiuV' 



C2 THE VICISSITUDES EXPERIENCED 

As chance inclines me, unconcern'd I move, 
All times, and all events, to me the same. 

I search my heart, and not a wish is there, 
But bums with zeal that hated self may fall ; 
Such is the sad iniquietude I share, 
A sea of doubts, and self the source of all. 

I ask not life, nor do I wish to die ; 
And if thine hand accomplish not my cure, 
I would not purchase, with a single sigh, 
A free discharge from all that I endure. 

I groan in chains, yet want not a release ; 
Am sick, and know not the distempered part ; 
Am just as void of purpose, as of peace ; 
Have neither plan, nor fear, nor hope, nor heart. 

My claim to life, though sought with earnest care, 
No light, within me, nor without me, shows ; 
Once I had faith ; but now, in self-despair 
Find my chief cordial, and my best repose. 

My soul is a forgotten thing, she sinks, 
Sinks, and is lost, without a wish to rise ; 
Feels an indin'rence she abhors, and thinks 
Her name eras'd for ever from the skies. 

Language affords not my distress a name, 
Yet is it real, and no sickly dream ■, 



IN A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 63 

'Tis Love inflicts It ; though to feel that flame, 
Is alflknow of happiness supreme. 

When Love departs, a Chaos wide and vast, 
And dark as Hell, is open'd in the soul ; 
When Love returns, the gloomy scene is past, 
No tempests shake her, and no fears control. 

Then tell me, why these ages of delay ? 
Oh Love, all-excellent, once more appear ; 
Disperse the shades, and snatch me into day, 
From this abyss of night, these floods of fear ! 

No... Love is angry, will not now endure 

A sigh of mine, or suffer a complaint ; 

He smites me, wounds me, and withholds the cure ; 

Exhausts mypow'rs, and leaves me sick and faint. 

He wounds, and hides the hand that gave the blow ; 
He flies, he re -appears, and wounds again... 
Was ever heart that lov'dthee, treated so ? 
Yet I adore thee, though it seem in vain. 

And wilt thou leave me, whom, when lost and blind, 
Thou didst distinguish, and vouchsafe to chuse, 
Before thy laws were written in my mind, 
While yet the world had all my thoughts and views ! 

Afou'leave me ? when, cnamour'd of thy laws, 
I make thy glory my supreme delight ; 
F 



64 THE VICISSITUDES EXPERIENCES 

Noiv blot me from thy register, and cause 
A faithful soul to perish from thy sight I 

What can have caus'd the change that I deplore ! 
Is it to prove me, if my heart be true ? 
Permit me then, while prostrate I adore, 
To draw, and place its picture in thy view. 

'Tis thine without reserve, most simply thine ; 
So giv'n to thee, that it is not my own ; 
A willing Captive of thy grace divine ; 
And loves, and seeks thee, for thyself alone. 

Pain cannot move it, danger cannot scare ; 
Pleasure, and wealth, in its esteem, are dust ; 
It loves thee, ev'n when least inclined, to spare 
Its tend'rest feelings and avows thee just. 

'Tis all thine own ; my spirit is so too, 
An undivided ofT'ring at thy shrine ; 
It seeks thy glory with no double view, 
Thy glory, with no secret bent to mine. 

Love,' hoi)' Love ! and art thou not severe, 
To Blight me, thus devoted, and thus fixt ? 
Mine is an everlasting ardor, clear 
From all self-bias, gen'rous and unmixt. 

But 1 am silent) seeing what I sec... 

And fear, with cause, that I am sclfdcceivM ; 



IN A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 65 

Not ev'n my faith is from suspicion free, 
And, that I love, seems not to he bcliev'd. 

Live thou, and reign, for ever, glorious Lord ! 
My last, least offering", I present thee now... 
Renounce me, leave me, and be still ador'd ! 
Slay me, my God, and I applaud the blow. 

«££*&» 

WATCHING UNTO GOD IN THE 
NIGHT-SEASON. 



Vol. 3. Cantiqiie 71. 



■ H H -H t I - 



SLEEP at last has fled these eyes, 

Nor do I regret his flight, 
More alert my spirits rise, 

And my heart is free and light. 

Nature silent all around, 
Not a single witness near ; 

God, as soon as sought, is found ; 
And the flame of Love burns clear. 

Interruption, all day long, 

Checks the current of my joys ; 

Creatures press me with a throng, 
And perplex me with their noise. 



66 WATCHING UNTO GOD, &C 

Undisturb'd I muse, nil night, 
On the first Eternal Fair ; 

Nothing- there obstructs delight* 
Love is renovated there. 

Life, with its perpetual stir, 
Proves a foe to Love and me ; 

Fresh entanglements occur.... 

Comes the night, and sets me free. 

Never more, sweet sleep, suspend 
My enjoyments always new ; 

Leave me to possess my Friend ; 
Other eyes and hearts subdue. 

Hush the world, that I may wake 
To the taste of pure delights ; 

Oh the pleasures I partake.... 
God, the Partner of my nights ! 

David, for the self-same cause, 
Night prefer'd to busy day ; 

Hearts, whom heav'nly beauty draws, 
Wish the glaring sun away. 

Sleep, Self-lovers, is for you.... 

Souls that love celestial know, 
Fairer scenes, by night can view, 

Than the sun could ever show. 



67 

ON THE SAME. 

— c++:> — 

Vol. 3. Cantique 72. 

SEASON of my purest pleasure, 

Sealer of observing eyes ! 
When in larger freer measure, 

I can commune with the skies ; 
While, beneath thy shade extended. 

Weary man forgets his woes ; 
I, my daily trouble ended, 

Find, in Watching, my Repose. 

Silence all around prevailing, 

Nature hush'd in slumber sweet, 
No rude noise mine ears assailing, 

Now my God and I can meet : 
Universal nature slumbers, 

And my soul partakes the calm, 
Breathes her ardor out in numbers, 

Plaintive song, or lofty psalm, j 

Now my passion, pure and holy, 

Shines, and burns, without restraint ; 

Which the day's fatigue, and folly, 
Caus'd to languish, dim and faint: 
F 2 



68 WAT CHI KG UNTO GOD 

Charming hours of relaxation ! 

How I dread th' ascending- sun ! 
Surely, idle conversation 

Is an evil, match'd by none. 

Worldly prate, and babble, hurt me; 

Unintelligible prove ; 
Neither teach me, nor divert me ; 

I have ears for none but Love. 
Me, they rude esteem, and foolish, 

Hearing my absurd replies ; 
I have neither arts' fine polish, 

Nor the knowledge of the wise. 

Simple souls, and unpolluted, 

By conversing with the Great, 
Have a mind and taste, ill suited 

To their dignity and state j 
All their talking, reading, writing, 

Are but talents misapplied ; 
Infant's prattle I delight in, 

Nothing human chuse beside. 

'Tis the secret fear of sinning, 

Checks my tongue, or I should say, 
When I see the night beginning, 

I am glad of parting day • 
Love, this gentle admonition 

Whispers soft, within my breast ; 
" Choice befits hot thy condition, 

Acquiescence suits thee be^t." 



IS THE WIGHT SEASON. 

Henceforth, the repose and pleasure 

Night affords me, I resign ; 
And thy Will shall be the measure, 

Wisdom infinite ! of mine : 
Wishing, is but Inclination 

Quarrelling with thy decrees ; 
Wayward nature finds th' occasion, 

'Tis her folly and disease. 

Night, with its sublime enjoyment!, 

Now no longer will I chuse ; 
Nor the day, with its employments, 

Irksome as they seem, refuse 
Lessons of a God's inspiring, 

Neither time nor place impedes ; 
From our wishing and desiring, 

Our Unjiappiness proceeds. 

<^>*<^» 

ON THE SAME. 

************ 

Vol 3. Cantique 73. 

NIGHT ! how I love thy silent shades, 

My spirits they compose ; 
The bliss of heav'n my soul pervades, 

In spite of all my woes. 



TO WATCHING UNTO GOIT 

While sleep instils her poppy dcw& 

In ev'ry slumb'ring' eye, 
I watch, to meditate and muse, 

In blest tranquillity. 

And when I feel a God" immense 

Familiarly impart, 
With ev'ry proof he can dispense, 

His favour to my heart. 

My native meanness I lament, 

Though most divinely fill'd 
With all th' ine .Table content, 

That Deity can yield. 

His purpose, and his course, he keeps ^ 
Treads all my reas'iiing-s down ; 

Commands me out of Nature's deeps, 
And hides me in his own. 

When in the dust, its proper place, 

Our pride of heart we lay ; 
'Tis then, a deluge of his grace 

Eears all our sins away. 

Thor., whom I serve, and who3C I aifl, 
Whose influence from on high 

Re lines, and still rennet my flame, 
And makes my fetters fly ; 



THE JOY Or THE CROSS. 71 

How wretched is the creature's state 

Who thwarts thy gracious pow'r ; 
Crush'd und r sin's enormous weight. 

Increasing- ev'ry hour ! 

The night, when pass'd entire with thee, 

How luminous and clear ! 
Then sleep has no delights for me, 

Lest Thou shouldst disappear. 

My Saviour ! occupy me still 

In this secure recess ; 
Let reason slumber if she will, 

My joy shall not be less : 

Let Reason slumber out the night ; 

But if Thou deign to make 
My soul th' abode of truth and light, 

Ah, keep my heart awake ! 

«€£+*&» 

THE JOY OF THE CROSS. 



Vol. 3. Cantique 97. 



LONG plung'd in sorrow, I resign 
My »oul to that dear hand of thine, 
Without reserve or fear ; 



72 THE JOY OF THE CliOSS. 

Thai hand shall wipe my streaming eyes ; 
Or into smiles of glad surprise, 
Transform the falling' tear. 

My sole possession is thy Love ; 
In earth beneath, or heav'n above, 

I have no other store ; 
And though with fervent suit I pray, 
And importune thee night and day, 

I ask thee nothing more. 

My rapid hours pursue the course 
Prcscrib'd them by love's sweetest force ; 

And I, thy sov 'reign Will, 
Without a wish V escape my doom ; 
Though still a suff'rer from the womb, 

And doom'd to suffer still . 

By thy command, where'er I stray, 
Sorrow attends me all my way, 

A never-failing friend ; 
And if my sufferings may augment 
Thy praise, behold me well content... 

Let sorrow still attend I 

It costs me no regret, that she, 

Who follow'd Christ, should follow me ; 

And though, where'er she goes, 
Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, 
I love her, and extract a sweet 

From all mv bitter woes. 



'IHE JOY OF THE CROSS. 7 J 

Adieu ! ye vain delights of earth ; 
Insipid sports, and childish mirth, 

I taste no sweets in you ; 
Unknown delights are in the Cross, 
All joy beside, to me is dross ; 

And Jesus thought so too. 

The Cross ! Oh ravishment and bliss.... 
How grateful ev'n its anguish is ; 

Its bitterness, how sweet ! 
There ev'ry sense, and all the mind, 
In all her faculties refin'd, 

Tastes happiness complete. 

Souls once enabl'd to disdain 
Base sublunary joys, maintain 

Their dignity secure ; 
The fever of desire is pass'd, 
And Love has all its genuine taste. 

Is delicate and pure. 

Self-love no grace in sorrow sees, 
Consults her own peculiar ease ; 

'Tis ail the bliss she knows : 
But nobler aims true Love employ j 
In self-denial is her joy, 

In sufi "ring her repose. 

Sorrow, and Love, go side by side ; 
N^r height, nor depth, can e'er divide 
Their Jieav'n-appointed bancU ; 



74 J»Y IN MARTYRDOM. 

Those dear associates still are one, 
Nor, till the race of life is rim, 
Disjoin their wedded hands. 

Jesus, avenger of our Fall, 
Tlion faithful Lover, above all 

The Cross has ever borne ! 
Oh tell me, ...Life is in thy voice... 
How much afflictions were thy choice, 

And sloth and ease thy scorn ! 

Thy choice, and mine, shall be the same ; 
Inspirer of that holy flame, 

Which must for ever blaze ! 
To take the Cross, and follow thee, 
Where love and duty lead, shall be 

My portion, and my praise. 



JOY IN MARTYRDOM. 

*:«£:*£:> 

Vol. 2. Continue UQ. 
— «.*:*•► — 

SWEET tenants of this grove ! 

Who singi without design, 
A son^ of ai tk.ss love, 
I)i unison with mm* ; 



JOY IN MARTYRDOM. 

These echoing shades return 
Full many a note of ours, 

That wise ones cannot learn, 
With all their boasted pow'rs. 

Oh thou ! whose sacred charms 

These hearts so seldom love, 
Although thy beauty warms, 

And blesses all above ; 
How slow arc human things, 

To chuse their happiest lot! 
All-glorious King of Kings, 

Say, why we love thee not ? 

This heart, that cannot rest, 

Shall thine for ever prove ; 
Though bleeding and distress'd, 

Yet joyful in thy love : 
'Tis happy, though it breaks 

Beneath thy chast'ning hand ; 
And speechless, yet it speaks 

What thou canst understand. 



76 
SIMPLE TRUST. 



Vol. 3. Cantique95. 

oooooooooooo 

STILL, still, without ceasing*, 

I feel it increasing, 
This fervour of holy desire ; 

And often exclaim, 

Let me die in the flume 
Of a Love that can never expire ! 

Had I words to explain, 

What.?/?? must sustain, 
Who dies to the world and its ways ; 

How joy and affright; 

Distress and delight, 
Alternately chequer her days ; 

Thou, sweetly severe ! 

I v. onld make the e appear, 
In all thou art pleas'd to award, 

Not more in the sweet, 

Than the bitter I meet, 
My tender <il Lord. 

Th : s Faith, in the dark 
Pursuing its mark, 
Through many lharp trials of Love ; 



CHE NECESSITY OF SELF-ABASEMEX T. 77 

Is the aorr >v fill waste, 

Tii at is to I 
In the way to the Canaan above. 

«€*>••< 

THE NECESSITY CF SELF-ABASEMENT. 

<:<frifK> ■ 

To/. 3. Cantique 92. 
i — <:4^> — 

SOURCE of Love, my brighter Sun, 

Thou alone my comfort art ; 

See my race is almost run ; 

Hast thou left this trembling" heart ? 

In my youth, thy charming eyea 
Drew me from the ways of men ; 
Then I drank ur.mingled joys ; 
Frown of thine, saw never then. 

Spouse of Christ was then my name ; 
And, devoted all to thee, 
Strangely jealous I became, 
Jealous of this Self, in me. 

Thee to love, and none beside, 
Waa my darling, sole employ ; 
While alternately I died, 
Now of grief, and now of joy. 



78 THE NECESSITY OF SELF-ABASEMENT. 

Through the chirk and silent night, 
On thy radiant smiles I dwelt ; 
And to see the dawning light, 

Was the keenest pain I felt. 

Thou my gracious teacher wert ; 
And thine eye, so close applied, 
While it watch'd thy pupil's heart, 
Seem'd to look at none beside. 

Conscious of no evil drift, 
This, I cried, is Love indeed.... 
'Tis the Giver, not the Gift, 
Whence the joys I feel proceed. 

But soon humbled, and laid low, 
Stript of all thou hadst conferr'd. 
Nothing" left, but sin and woe, 
I perceiv'd how I had err'd 

Oh, the vain conceit of man, 
Dreaming of a good his own, 
Arrogating all he can, 
Though the Lord is good alone ! 

He, the graces Thou bast wrougl 
Makes subservient to his prid< ; 
Ignorant, that one bui h 1 
Passes all bis sin bes 



I.OVE INCREASED BY 5U?rERlNC 79 

Such his folly.... prov'd, at last, 
By the loss of that repose 
Self-complacence cannot taste, 
Only Love divine bestows. 

'Tis by this reproof severe, 
And by this reproof alone, 
His defects at last appear, 
Man is to himself made known. 

Leam, all Earth! that feeble Man, 
Sprung- from this terrestrial clod, 
Nothing- is, and nothing- can ; 
Life, and pow'r, are all in God. 

— «€j*^> — 

LOVE INCREASED BY SUFFERING. 

*********** 
Vol. 3. Cantique 98. 

*********** 

• I love the Lord," is still the strain 

This heart delights to sing ; 
But I reply, .. .your thoughts are vain, 

Perhaps 'tis no such thing. 

Before the pow'r of Love divine, 
Creation fades away ; 

G 2 



SO LOVE INCREASED BY BUFFERING* 

Till only God is seen to shine 
In all that we survey . 

In golphfl of awful night we find 

The God of our desires ; 
'Tis there he stamps the yielding mind, 

And doubles all its fires. 

Flames of encircling 1 Love invest, 
And pierce it sweetly through ; 

'Tis fill'd with sacred joy, yet press' J 
With sacred sorrow too. 



Ah Love ! my heart is in the right 
Amidst a thousand woes, 

To thee, its ever new d< light, 
And all its peace, it owes. 



Fresh causes of distress occur, 
Where'er I look or move ; 

The comforts, I to all prefer, 
Arc solitude and love. 

Nor exile I, nor prison fear ; 

Love makes my< 
I find a Saviour ev*ry w I 

jlis grace, in ev^ry si ate 

Not castle wi !-' : , nor du 
Ei '.■i U his [ui( filing beams ; 



SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION. 81 

There I can sit, and BVOg $ and v. < 
And dwell on heav'nly themes. 

There, sorrow, for his sake, is found 

A joy beyond compare ; 
There, no p oughts abound, 

Nop] 

A Saviour doubles all my }< .■; s, 

And sweetens all my pains, 
JI*> strength in my defence employ 

Cons* ■ d sustains. 

I fear no ill, resent no wrong"; 

Nor feel a passion move, 
When malice whets her slanderous tongue ; 

Such patience i 

«C*£*» 

SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION 

——<:-£>£:> 

Vol. 3. Cantrr/u - 63. 

<:%<%■:> 

WILDS horrid and dark with o'ershadowing trees, 
Rocks that ivy and bru I old, 

^ nature with dread ai 
But I with a pi told 



82 SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION. 

Though awfully silent, and Bhtggy and rude, 
I am eharm'd with the peace ye afford. 

Your shades are a temple where none will intrude, 
The abode of my Lover and Lord. 

I am sick of thy splendor, O fountain of day, 
And here I am hid from thy beams, 

Here safely contemplate a brighter display 
Of the noblest and holiest themes. 



Ye forests that yield me my sweetest repose, 

Where stillness and solitude reign, 
To you I securely and boldly disclose 

The dear anguish of which I complain. 

Here sweetly forgetting", and wholly forgot 
By the world and its turbulent throng, 

The birds and the streams lend me many a note 
That aids'rneditation and song. 

Here wand'ring in scenes that are sacred to night, 
Love wears me, and wastes me av. ay, 

And often the sun has spent much of his light, 
Ere yet I perceive it is day. 

While a mantle of darkness envelops the sphert, 
My sorrows are safely rehears'd, 

To me the dark hours are all equally dear, 
And the last is as sweet as the first. 









SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION. OJ 

Here I and the beasts of the desert agree, 

Mankind are the wolves that I fear, 
They grudge me my natural right to be free, 

But nobody questions it here. 

Though little is found in this dreary abode 

That appetite wishes to find, 
My spirit is sooth'd by the presence of God, 

And appetite wholly resign'd. 

Ye desolate scenes, to your solitude led, 

My life I in praises employ, 
And scarce know the source ofthe tears that I shed, 

Proceed they from sorrow or joy. 

There is nothing I seem to have skill to discern, 

I feel out my way in the dark, 
Love reigns in my bosom, I constantly burn, 

Yet hardly distinguish the spark. 

I live, yet I seem to myself to be dead, 

Such a riddle is not to be found, 
I am nourished without knowing how I am fed, 

I have nothing, and yet I abound. 

Oli Love ! who in darkness art pleas'd to abide, 

Though dimly yet surely I see, 
That these contrarieties only reside 

In the soul that is chosen of thee. 



Zi SCENES FAVOURABLE TO MEDITATION. 

Ah ! send me not back to the rite of mankind 

Perversely by folly begiiiFd, 
For where in tiic crouds I have left shall I find 

The spirit and heart of a Child ? 

Here let me, though fixt in a desert, be free, 
A Little one whom they despise, 

Though lost to the world, if in union with thee, 
Shall be holy, and happy and wise. 



ORIGINAL POEMS. 

— *:++» — 

IY THE TRANSLATOR OF THE FOREGOING PISCES. 



87 

AN EPISTLE 

TO 

A PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE. 

<:<$"$►:>••— 

Madam, 

A Stranger's purpose in these lays 
Is to congratulate, and not to praise. 
To give the creature her Creator's due, 
Were sin in me, and an offence to you. 
From Man to Man, or ev'n to Woman paid, 
Praise is the medium of a knavish trade, 
A Coin by Craft for folly's use design'd, 
Spurious, and only current with the blind. 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the Land where sorrow is unknown; 
No Trav'ller ever reach'd that blest abode, 
Who found not thorns and briars in his road. 
The world may dance along the flow'ry plain, 
Cheer'd as they go, by many a sprightly strain, 
Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, 
With unshod feet they yet securely tread, 
Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend, 
Bent upon pleasure, heedless of its end. 
H 



88 AN EPISTLE, &.C 

But He who knew what human hearts would prove, 

How slow to learn the dictates of 1 is Love, 

That hard by nature, and of stubborn Will, 

A life of ease would mi harder still, 

In pity to the sinners he de> 

To rescue from the ruins of mankind, 

Call'dfor a cloud to darken all their} ears, 

And said..." go spend them in the vale of tean. 

Oh balmy gales of soul-reviving- air, 

Oh salutary streams that murmur there, 

These flowing* from the fount of Grace above, 

Those breath'd from lips of everlasting Love ! 

The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys, 

And sudden sorrow n'ps their springing joys, 

An envious world will interpose its frown 

To mar delights superior to its own, 

And maay a pang, experienced still within, 

Reminds them of their hated Inmate, Sin, 

But Ills of ev'ry shape and ev'ry name 

Transform'd to Blessing's miss their cruel aim, 

And ev'ry moment's Calm that sooths the breast, 

Is giv'n in earnest of Eternal Rest. 

Ah ! be not sad, although thy lot be cast 
Far from the flock, and in a distant waste ! 
. No shepherds' tent3 within thy view appear, 
But the Chief Shepherd is for ever near, 
Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain 
riow in a foreign land but not in vain, 



rniENDsnip. 89 

Thy tears all issue from a source divine, 
Andev'ry drop bespeaks a Saviour thine... 
Twafl thus in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, 
And drought on all the drooping* herbs around. 

«0**&» 

FRIENDSHIP. 



WHAT Virtue or what mental grace 
But men unqualified and base 

"Will boast it their possession ? 
Profusion apes the noble part 
Of Liberality of heart, 

And dulncss of Discretion. 

If ev'ry polish'd Gem we find 
Illuminating' heart or mind, 

Provoke to Imitation ; 
No wonder Friendship does the same, 
That Jewel of the purest flame, 

Or rather gpnstellation. 4 

No lmave but boldly will pretend 
The requisites that form a Friend, 

A real and a sound one, 
Nor any fool he would deceive, 
But prove as ready to believe, 

And dream that he has found one. 



90 FRIENDSHIP. 

Candid, and generous and just, 
Boys care but little whom they trust, 

An error soon corrected — 
For who but learns in riper years, 
That man when smoothest he appears 

Is most to be suspected ? 

But here again a danger lies, 
Lest having misemployed our eyes, 

And taken trash for treasure, 
We should unwarily conclude 
Friendship a false ideal Good, 

A mere Utopian pleasure. 

An acquisition rather rare, 
Is yet no subject of despair ; 

Nor is it wise complaining, 
If either on forbidden ground, 
Or where it was not to be found, 

We sought without attaining. 

No Friendship will abide the test 
That stands on sordid Interest, 

Or mean Self-love erected ; 
Nor such as may awhile subsist 
Between the Sot and Sensualist 

For vicious ends connected. 

Who seeks a Friend, should come disposed 
T' exhibit in full bloom disclos'd 
The graces and the beauties 



rRitxnsHip. 

That form the character he seeks, 
For 'tis an Union that bespeaks 
Reciprocated duties. 

Mutual attention is implied, 
And equal truth on either side, 

And constantly supported ; 
'Tis senseless arrogance t' accuse 
Another of sinister views, 

Our own as much distorted. 

But will Sincerity sufr.ce ? 
It is indeed above all price, 

And must be made the basis ; 
Butev'ry virtue of the Soul 
Must constitute the charming whole, 

All shining- in their places. 

A fretful temper will divide 

The closest knot that may be tied, 

By ceaseless sharp corrosion ; 
A temper passionate and fierce 
May suddenly your joys disperse 

At one immense explosion. 

In vain the Talkative unite 

In hopes of permanent delight... 

The secret just committed, 
Forgetting' its important weight, 
They drop through mere desire to prate, 
And by themselves outwitted. 
H 2 



91 



92 FRIENDSHIP. 

How blight soc'er the prospect seems, 

All thoughts of Friendship are but dreams, 

If envy chance to creep in ; 
An envious man, if you succeed, 
May prove a dangerous Friend indeed, 

But not a Friend worth keeping'. 

As Envy pines at Good possess'd, 
So Jealousy looks forth distress'd 

On Good that seems approaching', 
And if success his steps attend, 
Discerns a rival in a Friend, 

And hates him for encroaching". 

Hence Authors of illustrious name, 
Unless belied by common fame, 

Are sadly prone to quarrel, 
To deem the wit a friend displays 
A tax upon their own just praise, 

And pluck each others laurel. 

A man renown'd for repartee 
Will seldom scruple to make free 

With Friendship's finest fe( 
Will thrust a dagger at your breast, 
And say he wounded you in jest, 

By way of balm for healing. 

Whoever keeps an open ear 
For tattlers, will be sure to hear 
The trumpet of contention ; 



FRIENDSHIP. 

Aspersion is the babbler's trade, 
To listen is to lend him aid, 
And rush into dissension. 

A Friendship that in frequent fits 
Of controversial rage emits 

The sparks of disputation, 
Like hand in hand Insurance plates, 
Most unavoidably creates 

The thought of Conflagration. 

Some fickle creatures boast a soul 
True as the needle to the pole, 

Their humour yet so various... 
They manifest their whole life through 
The needle's variation too, 

Their Love is so precarious. 

The great and small but rarely meet 
On terms of amity complete, 

Plebeians must surrender, 
And yield so much to noble folk, 
It is combining fire with smoke, 

Obscurity with splendour. 

Some are so placid and serene 
(As Irish bogs are always green) 

They sleep secure from waking ; 
And are indeed a Bog that bears 
Your unparticipated cares 

Unmov'd, and without quaking". 



k)[ FRIENDSHIP. 

Courtier and Patriot cannot mix 
Their het'rogeneous politics, 

Without an efFer*e#eei*ee 
I/ik( Its with lemon juice, 

Which does riot yet like them produce 

A friendly coalescence. 

Religion should extinguish i 

And make a calm of human Life \ 

But friends that chau< 
On points which God has I 
How fiercely will they meet and charge, 

No combatants are stiller ! 

To prove at last my main I 
Needs no expense of argument, 

No cutting' and contriving... 
Seeking" a real friend we seem 
T* adopt the Chemists golden dream, 

With still less hope of thriving-. 

Sometimes the fault is all our own, 
Some blemish in due time made known 

By trespass or omission ; 
Sometimes occasion brings to light 
Our friends defect long- hid from sight. 

And even from suspicion. 

Then judge yourself, and prove your man 
As circumspectly as you can, 
And having made election. 



FRIENDSHIP. 95 



Beware no negligence of yours, 
Such as a Friend but ill endures, 
Enfeeble his affection. 

That Secrets are a sacred trust, 

That friends should be sincere and just, 

That Constancy befits them, 
Are observations on the case 
That savour much of common place, 

And all the world admits them. 

But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, 
An architect requires alone 

To finish a fine building 1 ... 
The palace were but half complete, 
If he could possibly forget 

The carving and the gilding. 

The man that hails you, Tom or Jack, 
And proves by thumps upon your back, 

How he esteems your merit, 
Is such a friend, that one had need 
Be very much his friend indeed 

To pardon or to bear it. 

As similarity of mind, 

Or something not to be defin'd, 

First fixes our attention ; 
So manners decent and polite, 
The same we practis'd at first sight, 

Must save it from declension. 



96 FRIENDSHIP. 

Some act upon the prudent pHn, 
" Say little, and hear all you can," 

Safe policy but hateful — 
So barren sands imbibe the show'r, 
But render neither fruit nor flow'r, 

Unpleasant and ungrateful. 

The man I trust, if shv to me, 
Shall find me as reserv'd as he, 

No subterfuge or pleading 
Shall win my confidence again-, 
I will by no means entertain 

A Spy on my proceeding. 

These samples... for alas ! a f last 
These are but samples and a taste 

Of evils yet unmention'd... 
May prove the task a task indeed, 
In which 'tis much if we succeed 

However well-intention'd. 

Pursue the search, and you will find 
Good sense and knowledge of mankind 

To be at least expedient, 
And after summing all the rest, 
Religion ruling in the breast 

A principal ingredient. 

The noblest Friendship ever shown 
The Saviour's history makes kivwn. 

Though some have turn'd, and turn'd if, 



FRIENDSHIP. 97 



And whether being 1 craz'd or blind, 
Or peeking with a bias'u mind, 
Save n^t, it seems, discern'd it. 

Ol Friendship ! if my soul forego 
Xiy dear delights v\hile here below ; 

To mortify and grieve mc, 
dav I myself at hist appear 
Unworthy, base, and insincere, 
Or may my friend deceive me ! 



98 

STANZAS, 

SUBJOINED TO 

A BILL OF MORTALITY 

FOR 

THE PARISH OF ALL SAINTS, 
IN THE TOWN OF NORTHAMPTON. 

ANNO DOMINI 1787- 

Pallida Mors <ecp.io puhat pede pcuperum tahernas, 
Hegii')nx[ue tune*-. Horace. 

Pale Death, with equal foot strikes wide the door 
Of royal Halls and hovels of the Poor. 

— <:+:+:» — 

WHILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run 

The Nen's barge-laden wave, 
All these, Life's rambling' journey done, 

Have found their home, the Grave. 

Was Man (frail always) made more frail 

Than in foregoing* years ? 
Did Famine or did Plague prevail, 

That so much death appears I 



STANZAS SUBJOINED, &C. 99 

No. These were vigorous as their sires, 

Nor Plague nor Famine came ; 
This annual tribute Death requires, 

And never waves his claim. 

Like crowded forest-trees we stand, 

And some are maik'd to fall ; 
The axe will smite at God's command, 

And soon shall smite us all. 

Green as the Bay-tree, ever green 

With its new foliage on, 
The Gay, the Thoughtless, I have seen, 

I pass- d.... and they were gone. 

Read, ye that run ! the solemn truth 

With which I charge my page ; 
A Worm is in the Bud of Youth, 

And at the Root of Age. 

No present Health can Health insure, 

Forget an hour to come ; 
No med'cine though it often cure, 

Can always baulk the tomb. 

And Oh ! that humble as my Lot, 

And scorn'd as is my strain, 
These truths, though known, too much forgot, 

I may not each in vain. 
I 



100 STANZAS SUBJOINED TO 

So prays your Clerk with all his heart, 

And ere he quits the pen, 
Begs j/om ihv once to take his part, 

And answer all.... A men ! 

«€j*5*> 

1788. 

£htod adest, memento 
Componere aquus ; cetera Jluminis 
Ritu feruntur : Horace. 

Improve the present Hour, for all beside 
Is a mere Feather on a Torrent's Tide. 

<:■£<!►:> 

COULD I, from Heav'n inspir'd, as sure presage 
To whom the rising- Year shall prove his last ; 
As I can number in my punctual Page, 
And Item down the Victims of the past ; 

How each would trembling wait the mournful Sheet, 
On which the Press might stamp him next to die ; 
And, reading here his Sentence, how replete 
With anxious meaning, lleav'n-ward turn his Eye ! 

Time, then, would seem more precious than the Joys 
Iu which he sports away Uie Treasure now ; 



A BILL OF MORTALITY- 101 

And Pray'r, more seasonable than the Noise 
Of Drunkards, or the Music-drawing 1 Bow. 

Then, doubtless, many a Trifler on the Brink 
Of this World's hazardous and headlong* Shore, 
Forc'dto a Pause, would feel it good to think, 
Told that his setting Sun must rise no more. 

Ah self-deeeiv'd ! Could I, prophetic, say, 
Who next is fated, and who next, to fall, 
The Rest might then seem privileged to play ; 
But, naming none, the Voice now speaks to all. 

Observe the dappled Foresters, how light 
They bound and airy o'er the sunny Glade.... 
One falls.... the Rest wide scatter'd with affright, 
Vanish at once into the darkest Shade. 

Had we their Wisdom, should we often warn'd, 
Still need repeated warnings, and at last, 
A thousand awful admonitions scorn'd, 
Die self-accus'd of life all run to waste ? 

Sad waste. 1 for which no after-thrift atones : 
The grave admits no cure for guilt or sin. 
Dew-drops may deck the turf that hides the bones, 
But tears of godly grief ne'er flow within. 

Learn then, ye living ! by the mouths be taught 
Of all these sepulchres, instructors true, 



102 STANZAS SUBJOINED TO 

That, soon or late, Death also is your lot, 
And the next op'ning grave may yawn for you. 




—Placidaq ; ibi demum morte quicvit. 

Virg. 

There calm, at length, he breath' d his soul away. 
•>h:^» — 

" OH most delightful hour by man 

" Experienced here below, 
" The hour that terminates his span, 

" His folly, and his woe ! 

w Worlds should not bribe me back to tread, 

" Again life's dreary waste, 
" To see again my Day o'erspread 

« With all the gloomy Past. 

" My Home henceforth is in the skies, 

" Earth, Seas, and Sun adieu ! 
" All Heav'n unfolded to my eyes, 

iC I have no sight for you." 

So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd 
Of Faith's supporting rod, 



A BILL OF MORTALITY. 10S 

Then brcath'd his soul into its rest, 
The bosom of his God. 

He was a man, among tlic few, 

Sincere on Virtue's side ; 
And all his strength from Scripture drew, 

To hourly use apply'd. 

That rule he priz'd, by what he fear'd, 

He hated, hop'd, and lov'd ; 
Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd, 

I>ut when his heart had rov'd. 

For he was frail as thou or I, 

And evil felt within ; 
Eut when he felt it, heav'd a sigh, 

And loath'd the thought of Sin. 

Such liv'd Aspasio ; and, at last, 

Call'd up from Earth to Heav'n, 
The g'ulph of Death triumphant pass'd, 

By gales of blessing" driv'n. 

His joys be wine, each Reader cries, 

When my last hour arrives ! 
They shall be yours, my Verse repl 

Such o.\LY be your lives. 



I 



104 STANZAS SUBJOINED TO 

1790. 

Ne commoiientem recta sperne. 

BUCIIANNAN. 

Despise not my good counsel. 

<:*:*:> 

HE who sits from day to day, 
Where the prison'd lark is hung", 

Heedless of his loudest lay, 

Hardly knows that he has sung". 

Where the watchman in his round 

Nightly lifts his voice on high, 
None, accustom'dto the sound, 

Wakes the sooner for his cry. 

So your Verse-man I, and Clerk, 

Yearly in my song proclaim 
Death at hand... yourselves his mark... 

And the foe's unerring aim. 

Duly at my time I come, 

Publishing to all aloud... 
Soon the grave must be your home, 

And your only suit, a shroud. 

But the monitory strain, 
Oft repeated in your I 



A BILL OF MORTALITY. 105 

Seem9 to sound too much in vain, 
Wins no notice, wakes no feari, 

Can a truth, by all confess'd, 

Of such magnitude and weight, 
Grow, by being* oft compress'd, 

Trivial as a parrot's prate ? 

Pleasure's call attention wins, 

Hear it often as we may ; 
New as ever seem our sins, 

Though committed ev'ry day. 

Death and Judgment, Heav'n and Hell... 

These alone, so often heard, 
No more move us than the bell, 

When some stranger is interr'd. 

Oh then, ere the turf or tomb 

Cover us from ev'ry eye, 
Spirit of instruction, come, 

Make us learn that we must die ! 



106 STANZAS SUBJOINED T« 

1792. 

Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
f$uiq: meiuc omnes et inexorabikfatum 
Subjecit pedibus, ttrepitwmq ; Adierontis avarif 

Happy the mortal, who bus trac'd effects 

To their first cause, east fear beneath his feet 

And Death, and roaring" Hell's voracious fires ! 

<:*:*:> 

THANKLESS for favors from on high, 

Man thinks he fades too soon ; 
Tho' 'tis his privilege to die 

Would he improve the boon. 

But lie not wise enough to scan 
His best concerns aright, 

Wo . life's little span 

To ages, if he might. 

To ages in a wprl 

To ages where I 
Gall'd by affliction's \w;\y chain, 

And hopeless of repose. 

Strange fondness ')?\hc human heart, 

EnamourM of its harm ! 
Stnu uch smart, 

And stiii has pow'r to charm. 



A BILL OF MORTALITY. 107 

Whence has the world her magic pow'r ? 

Why deem we death a foe ? 
Recoil from weary life's best hour, 

And covet longer woe ? 

The cause is Conscience... Conscience oft 

Her tale of guilt renews ; 
Her voice is terrible, though soft, 

And dread of death ensues. 

Then anxious to be longer spar'd, 

Man mourns his fleeting breath ; 
All evils then seem light, compar'd 

With the approach of Death. 

'Tis Judgment shakes him ; there's the fear 

That prompts the wish to stay : 
He has incurr'd a long arrear, 

And must despair to pay. 

Pay /...follow Christ, and all is paid ; 

His death your peace insures ; 
Think on the Grave where he was laid, 

And calm descend to yours. 



103 STANZAS SUBJOINED TO 

1793. 

De sacris autem Invc tit mia ser.tentia, vt concervt -ntur . 
Cicero de legibus. 

But let us all concur in this sentiment, that things 
sacred be inviolate. 

— <:^'4* : > — 

HE lives who lives to God, alone ; 

And all arc dead beside ; 
For oilier source than God, is none 

Whence life can be supplied. 

To live to God, is to requite 

His love as best we may ; 
To make his precepts our delight, 

His promises our stay. 

But l'fe, within a narrow ring 

Of giddy joys compris'd, 
Is falsely nam'd, and no such thing, 

But rather death disguis'd. 

Can life in them deserve the name, 

Who only live, to pr 
For what poor to) j, they can disclaim 

An endless life above ? 



A BILL OF MORTALITY. 109 

Who, much diseas'd, yet nothing" feel ; 

Much menae'd, nothing- dread ; 
Have wounds, which only God can heal, 

Yet never ask his aid ! 

Who deem his house an useless place ; 

Faith, want of common sense ; 
And ardour in the Christian race, 

A hypocrite's pretence ! 

Who trample Order ; and the day 

Which God asserts his own, 
Dishonour with unhallow'd play, 

And worship Chance alone ! 

If scorn of God's commands, impress'd 

On word and deed, imply 
The better part of man, unbless'd 

With Life that cannot die ; 

Such want it ;... and that Want, uncur'd 

Till man resign his breath, 
Speaks him a Criminal, assur'd 

Of everlasting death. 

Sad period to a pleasant course ! 

Yet so will God repay 
Sabbaths profan'd without remors*, 

And Mercy cast away. 



110 

AN EPITAPH 

ON 

MR. T. A. HAMILTON, 

IN THE CHURCHYARD OF NEWPORT-r AGNEL. 

— <:4^> — 

PAUSE here, and think. A monitory Rhime 
Demands one moment of thy fleeting 1 time. 

Consult Life's silent clock, thy bounding vein ; 
Seems it to say...." Health, here, has long to reign ,J 
Hast thou the vigour of thy youth ?....an eye 
That beams delight ?....a heart untaught to sigh ? 
Yet fear. Youth, ofttimes healthful, and at ease, 
Anticipates a day it never sees ; 
And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud 
Exclaims, " Prepare thee for an early shroud." 



FINIS. 






k> 






mm